


Two plus two equals me shooting you

by LuliaRayaGrace



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: 20 Questions, Hurt Race, M/M, Race was in the Refuge, stay awake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuliaRayaGrace/pseuds/LuliaRayaGrace
Summary: “What’s two plus two?” Spot asked sitting up leaning against the wall.“Two plus two equals me shooting you,” Race replied glaring at Spot.“That isn’t even a number,” Spot laughed.“Fine, four. Now don’t wake me up again.”





	Two plus two equals me shooting you

Jack wasn’t ready, nothing could have prepared Manhattan for what was about to come through their door. Jack was sat on the couch deep in thought as Crutchie sat on one side of him and Davey on the other. The three were startled as the front door to the lodge was thrown open.

“Where the hell is he?” Spot yelled quickly crossing the room as his second Sax trailed behind him.

“Where’s who?” Les asked back bounding down the stair running across the room to sit on the armrest beside Davey.

“Shut up, Tike,” Spot stormed, “Where the hell is he, Jack?”

“Who the hell are you looking for?” Jack asked standing up from the couch.

“Where the hell is Racetrack? Fox and Tails haven’t seen him at the races for almost three weeks. He hasn't shown up for his poker games, either as a matter of fact,” Spot stated.

“You didn’t tell him?” Crutchie asked from his seat on the couch.

“Tell me what! Where the hell is the Italian, who can’t seem to ever shut his mouth?” Spot questioned once again becoming more annoyed and irritated.

“Spot, you just have to be patient like the rest of us,” Jack said trying to calm the Brooklynite.

“Patient, where the hell is Race?” Spot yelled.

“The Refuge,” Davey said giving Spot an answer, “He’s been in the refuge for almost three weeks.”

“Why?” Spot asked looking at all the Manhattan newsies. More had come inside hearing the yelling or creep down the stairs.

“He got caught,” Albert said from the bottom of the staircase.

“Caught, doing what?” Spot asked crossing to Albert.

“None of us know,” Mush said from the doorway behind the couch, “I caught a glimpse of him being carried in the front door, three weeks ago. That’s all we know.”

“And none of you have tried to get him out,” Spot questioned looking directly at Jack, “Jack you have broken out of there multiple times.”

“I went to the windows, but he wasn’t there,” Jack explained, “I asked one of the kids if the had seen him. They had seen him but only in passes in the hallways. They said he’s being kept in the basement. Spot, I don’t know how to get into the basement. If I could get him out I would. I don’t want any of my newsies in there, I know what it does to a person.”

At this time the front door opened as Vent ran in, “Spot you need to get to Brooklyn, now.”

“What? Why?” Spot asked looking at Vent.

“Race, he needs you,” Vent said.

“He’s out,” Crutchie said leaning over to pick up his crutch.

“Yes, he is. Spot it’s bad, I barely recognized him. I took him up to your room and laid him down,” Vent explained.

Spot quickly ran out of the building with Vent and Sax trailing along with Jack, Albert, and Mush.

*****

Spot quickly made his way up the stairs throwing open his door to see a frail body curled up in the blanket of his bed. “Race?” He called slowly making his way across the room scared to see what had become of his best friend.

“Spot?” Race mumbled sitting up but not turning around. Spot could see how the boy's clothes hung off his body. Race turned around revealing his left eye which was swollen shut and a split lip.

Spot quickly sat beside him on the bed running his thumb across Race’s lip. “Race, I’m so sorry,” Spot said.

Everyone else was gathered at the door watching the two interact with each other. “Why, are you sorry?” Race asked, “It wasn’t your fault I ended up there.”

“Yes, but I should have realized where you were and gotten you out sooner,” Spot mumbled pushing Race’s blonde curls off his forehead to reveal a cut above his right temple. Race flinched away as Spot poked at the cut.

“Would you stop poking it, it only makes it hurt more,” Race laughed reaching up taking a hold of Spot’s wrist and pulling it down into his lap.

Spot looked over at the door before back at Race. “Racer this needs stitches in it,” Spot said pointing to his forehead.

“Ya, and how are we gonna pay for a doctor to come and put stitches in my head,” Race laughed still not have noticed the group of people by the door.

“I could do it,” Sax said, causing Race to quickly look, “I’ve stitched up tons of the Brooklyn boys, even Spotty a couple times.”

“I thought we said we weren’t gonna talk about that,” Spot threatened his second.

“Do ya want me to fix him or not?” Sax asked leaning against the door frame.

“Yes, Sax. Go get your stuff and get back here,” Spot instructed turning back to look at Race.

“Spot, I’m getting tired,” Race said.

“Race I need you to stay awake until Sax can get these stitches in you,” Spot said watching as Race laid back down. “Racetrack don’t you dare fall asleep on me. Vent, did he tell you about anything else hurting or did you see anything?”

“Uh, he was limpin’ pretty good and complaining about hitting his head on something,” Vent said quickly, “No he said someone hit him on the head with a pipe or something.”

“What, he could have a concussion you're not supposed to sleep with a concussion,” Spot said, “Jack I need you to see why he was limping. Albert, Mush, I need you guys to keep him awake and coherent. While Sax vent and I work on the stitches.”

Jack quickly moved to remove Race’s boots, while Mush and Albert sat above his head trying to get him to wake up. When they did they asked him to tell them stories and asked questions, just about anything they could to keep him awake. Sax ran back into the room confused about what was happening. “Did I miss something?” He asked quickly setting the first-aid box on the floor by the bed.

“Jack, what you got?” Spot asked looking down at the Manhattan leader.

“It looks as if his leg is broken,” Jack said lightly poking at the giant bruise in the middle of Race’s shin.

“Jack would you quit poking at my leg,” Race mumbled as Vent poked at his forehead, “That goes for you too vent.”

“Race, this is gonna hurt and I need you to stay extremely still. Spot can you hold his head?” Sax asked sitting on Race’s right side. Spot sat above Race putting his head in between his thighs to hold his head still.

“Spot, please I just wanna sleep,” Race pleaded.

“I know you do. Just let us get these couple things done and then I’ll let you sleep,” Spot said as Sax started to do the stitches.

After Sax got done with the stitches he moved to take a look at Race’s leg as Spot gave Race the ok to fall asleep. “Spot, this is most definitely broken,” Sax said looking at the head of Brooklyn, “Theirs not much we can do about it besides but him on mandatory bed rest for almost a month.”

“Race, on bed rest,” Albert laughed, “we all know that ain’t gonna happen.”

“Or the other option it I could but in a makeshift brace and hope for the best,” Sax said.

“Let's start with the brace and if it isn’t helping after a week. I’ll put him on bed rest,” Spot said.

“You’ll put him on bedrest, Spot?” Jack asked, “Race is a Manhattan. Race is my second in command. Spot, Race is coming back to Manhattan, tonight.”

“Jack, how you gonna get him there. Are you gonna be the person who wakes up all night to wake him up?” Spot asked crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why would I have to wake him up all night?” Jack asked as the group settled into a circle on the other side of the room. Brooklyn on one side, Manhattan on the other.

“When someone had a concussion, like Race. You have to periodically wake them up, ask them some questions and make sure they are still able to answer the questions correctly,” Spot explained, “I don’t think you’re gonna wanna wake him up all night and play twenty questions and neither will the rest of the Manhattan boys. Let me keep him here, in my room where it won’t disturb anyone. I promise I’ll watch him and when he’s better I’ll bring him over.”

“You have a week Conlon. A week and I want Racetrack back in ‘hattan, where he belongs,” Jack stated, before leaving the building with Mush and Albert trailing him.

“Sax, I need you to do whatever you need to do to his leg,” Spot instructed as Vent closed the door behind the Manhattan crew. Spot quickly crossed the room sitting on the edge of the bed beside Race. Leaning over to kiss his forehead. “God, I’m so stupid how did I not realize you were missing,” Spot mumbled messing with Race’s curls as Sax set his leg in a makeshift brace in hope of it healing.

“Remember you need to wake him up in an hour and then every two to three hours afterward,” Vent remind Spot as Sax made his way across the room the Vent. Sax leaned over lightly pecking Vent.

“Alright, lovebirds go to sleep,” Spot laughed shewing the two out of his private room.

*****

“Race,” Spot called rolling over to face his boyfriend, “Racetrack, you need to wake up. Tony, Antonio Giulia Higgins.” At his full name Race barely opened his eyes glaring at Spot.

“What, do you want?” Race asked.

“What color are bricks?” Spot asked.

“Red?”

“What is Crutchie’s real name?”

“Charles or Charlie. Spot what is the point of this?” Race asked rolling onto his side to face Spot.

“Just answer my questions. Where’s Jack’s favorite place?” Spot asked leaning over closer.

“Santa Fe? Spot, I’m pretty sure you already have all of this information,” Race laughed.

“One last question, what is my full name?” Spot asked.

“Your full name is Sean Nathaniel Conlon. Now can I go back to sleep?” Race grumbled.

“Yes, I’ll wake you up again in a little bit and ask you more questions,” Spot laughed before kissing Race.

“Can’t wait,” Race giggled before laying back over on his back to fall back asleep.

*****

Spot continued to wake Race up all night and ask him questions each time the questions becoming more random then the time before. 

“What is pork made out of?” Spot asked with his head propped up.

“Pig,” Race answered with his head still buried in his pillow.

*****

“What’s two plus two?” Spot asked sitting up leaning against the wall.

“Two plus two equals me shooting you,” Race replied glaring at Spot.

“That isn’t even a number,” Spot laughed.

“Fine, four. Now don’t wake me up again.”


End file.
